Chapter Text
There is something wrong with Mobei Li. There always has been. It is nothing new. For as long as he can remember, he has had… moments of weakness. Stupidity. Taking leave of his senses and reverting into a creature of instincts, cowardice. Forgetting, for hours at a time, how to shape and move ice, or how to slip into the shadows and disappear.
He cannot explain it, but he knows it is no poison of his uncle’s. Linguan-Jun would know to exploit it in that case. There have been many times that Mobei Li has been left in that vulnerable state within the Ice Palace, and his uncle made no moves against him despite having prime opportunity to do so.
Neither is it the result of a head injury, which Mobei Li would have recovered from long ago by now. Nor is it the effect of some strange plant or object, he is almost entirely certain. It is merely a… deficiency within him, that at times he turns into a slow, fearful thing that cannot think clearly. He is lucky that it has not killed him yet. Fortunately, whenever it strikes him, his diminished self is prone towards hiding from others. Either he will stay within his room or some quiet corner he finds - or, if unable to go and be alone somewhere, he will stay quiet and speak as little as possible so as to make others overlook him.
Outwardly, this is very similar to his regular behavior, so no one has noticed anything amiss yet. That his attitude is normally motivated by a disdain and dislike of others rather than a fear of them is not a noticeable difference to onlookers. Thankfully, his diminished self at least isn’t foolish enough to trust anyone.
Or at least, that is what he thought. Then he meets the human.
Shang Qinghua is loud, annoying, insincere, untrustworthy, grating, baffling, always either falsely fawning over him or falsely groveling to him. He is a despicable, suspicious, pathetic creature that will doubtlessly attempt to stab him in the back someday despite being so much weaker than him. He hopes to lull Mobei Li into a false sense of security, and then one day he will finally make his move so he can bring a demon’s head to his little cultivation sect and crow about what a mighty battle it was. That is what he will do. Mobei Li reminds himself of this repeatedly, regularly, firmly.
It refuses to sink in. Nor does it leave him, however. Instead that wariness and suspicion floats at the top of his mind at all times like shards of ice in the waves of a freezing ocean, constantly clinking and grating against each other. He hates it. He wishes that Shang Qinghua would finally just do it, so that Mobei Li will be able to make his mind up about him once and for all, all of his suspicions validated. Instead, they continue to exist in this interminable in-between state of false loyalty simply waiting to fall away like a wooden mask to reveal whatever lies in wait underneath.
It makes Mobei Li angry, and resentful, and tense. It makes him more and more suspicious, waiting for that moment of betrayal that refuses to arrive.
Worst of all, it makes that stupid, foolish, diminished part of himself relax. Its arrival is always inconvenient and dangerous on its own, however… there are certain rules that it abides by. It has never come upon him during a moment of true danger, such as in the midst of a life or death battle. It has often come in the aftermath of battle when he has limped off to go and lick his wounds, or at other odd moments that he cannot explain - in the middle of an excruciating family dinner, running into his uncle in the halls, becoming lost in a new place - but never when it would have certainly spelled his doom.
But as Mobei Li becomes used to the human, that diminished version of himself begins to poke its head out more and more often around him. The first time it happens they have known each other for two years, and Mobei Li came to his human servant’s abode in the middle of the night, kicking him out of his bed and stealing it for himself. Shang Qinghua had squawked and whined, with Mobei Li coldly ignoring him. He had been attacked in his bed by an assassin and had successfully slain them, but had been unwilling to go back to sleep where he had only moments ago been violently attacked. There had been nowhere else for him to go, and he’d fumed with the indignity of that fact.
“Ahh, fine,” Shang Qinghua had said in the end, as if his permission was at all required or even sought after. “Fine! Have it your way! This humble servant will just sleep on the floor like a dog, then! Again.”
“Good,” Mobei Li said, and lay there tense and awake in the darkness, listening to Shang Qinghua grumbling quietly to himself as he settled down to sleep. He kept waiting for something, but as always, it didn’t come.
Then he fell asleep, and when he woke up he was his diminished self. The very first time such a thing had ever happened within Shang Qinghua’s presence - not even during the miserable illness caused by the Ling Hua dart did Mobei Li’s weak, traitorous mind force him into that state. He’d been wounded and sick and miserable, which would normally be a very typical time for his diminished self to appear, but the strange, untrustworthy human had been constantly around him, fussing over him and never leaving for longer than a moment. Mobei Li had been forced to remain constantly alert, constantly tense, constantly aware of the potential danger. His first slip in front of the human - that presented a dangerous lapse, although he couldn’t comprehend it until afterwards.
He hadn’t given himself away, at least. He’d been quiet and wary, watching Shang Qinghua out of the corner of his eye. Shang Qinghua, used to his silence, had made some comment about the swings and roundabouts of a mercurial prince’s moods and then started puttering around in his tiny room, fussing over minor chores here and there.
Mobei Li had been frightened of him, waiting for him to do something. In that pathetic state, he can be scared of even someone as obviously beneath him as Shang Qinghua. It is like he simply… forgets his own strength. His abilities, his size. Self-awareness erodes, leaving behind only the fear of a prey animal surrounded by predators. Ridiculously, he feels small when he is like that. It is an unshakeable conviction that everyone around him must surely be bigger than him. Taller, older, stronger. Easily able to hurt him if they so wish.
“Breakfast for my king,” Shang Qinghua had said after he’d darted out of his room for just a ke, returning with a tray of food. Hot, steaming congee wafting the smell of scallions and shredded pork along with some bread buns. There were some rice grains at the side of his mouth, like he’d wolfed down a portion for himself before returning. “Don’t say that this servant doesn’t provide, my king! This humble servant knows that it surely isn’t up to his king’s standards and apologizes profusely for the low quality. It is the best he can provide as a mere disciple!”
He set the tray down by Mobei Li. Mobei Li, who was in fact very hungry, looked at the food for just a moment before pulling the bowl towards himself and beginning to eat. It was plain, but warm and filling.
Thinking back on it the day afterwards, shudders had crawled up Mobei Li’s spine. Were he in his right mind, he never would have eaten something without demanding that Shang Qinghua take a bite out of each dish first to prove he hadn’t tainted it. Shang Qinghua hadn’t seemed to notice the lack of their regular ritual.
After that, it was like a seal broke, and his diminished self began to emerge regularly around Shang Qinghua, more and more often. Not every single time, but… If he ever drops in after he’s been injured or needs a safe place to sleep, if he isn’t already slipping when he arrives then it happens in less than a shichen. He hates it. He hates how inevitable it is, how helpless he is to stop it.
At the very least, Shang Qinghua has never noticed. If there is anything amiss in his behavior at all, then the man manages to find plausible explanations for it himself. When Mobei Li won’t respond to what he says or refuses to move, he throws his hands up and acts as if he is only being stubborn in order to spite him. He bandages Mobei Li’s wounds; he feeds him; he sews the tears in his clothes shut; he mindlessly rambles about his day at him, all of his petty little problems and solutions.
It is terrible. Shang Qinghua’s behaviors, so ridiculous and baffling, are comforting to Mobei Li in that state. Perversely, it makes it last longer. He spends hours like that, entire afternoons. Whenever he slips in the Demon Realm, he will often find himself confusedly looking for him, as if Shang Qinghua should of course be around any corner to come and take care of him like he always does. He thinks where is he?
Where is Nanny?
Humiliating. But this has always been a humiliating state of affairs, something he can never let anyone else know of. In a way, it is no different. The only change is that Mobei Li makes sure to quickly dart into the shadows and slip into Shang Qinghua’s rooms in the Human Realm whenever he can feel that confusion seeping into him, before it is too late and he becomes stranded like that alone and without-- him. It is simply more comfortable to weather those storms with Shang Qinghua for company. That is all.
Then something goes wrong.
Mobei Li comes staggering out of the shadows into the Leisure House, his blood splattering thickly onto the floor with each step. The house is dark; for half a second, Mobei Li wonders if Shang Qinghua is gone, out on one of his trips for his sect, that Mobei Li has come crawling into an empty house merely to die alone.
Then there’s a muzzy noise from the bed, a shape in the sheets shifting, and Mobei Li remembers that it is night.
“Wake up!” he snaps roughly, his voice a raw rasp. He must have screamed when he was attacked; he doesn’t even remember doing it.
“What--?” Shang Qinghua yelps, rising up so sharply that he nearly tumbles out of his bed and onto the floor. “My-- my king, hello, hi, greetings! This, this servant wasn’t expecting, let him, ah, let me--”
A talisman lights to life. Shang Qinghua gets a good look at him, and his voice dies in his throat, his forced smile freezing in place.
“Do something! Now!” Mobei Li demands, holding onto his own bicep so that its weight will not pull on the thin strands of tendon just barely keeping his arm still in one piece. His heart is pounding wildly in his chest, jittery and frantic, and it is only making the blood pour out more quickly.
“Fuck,” Shang Qinghua wheezes, and then, “alright. Right.”
He scrambles out of the bed, and then instead of going for Mobei Li he vanishes out of the room. When he returns, Mobei Li has sunk to his knees on the floor, still holding onto the remains of his arm. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.
“I’m back I’m back I’m back,” Shang Qinghua chants, running to him so quickly that he skids along the floor when he comes to a stop, slamming down onto his knees. He’s holding - something. Mobei Li can’t make himself focus on it. Breathing and staying conscious is so difficult. “Here, my king - this is going to, uh, hurt. Sorry. Swallow this.”
He pushes some pill into Mobei Li’s mouth. Mobei Li, desperate and wretched, swallows it without even asking for an explanation. Shang Qinghua might as well have fed him poison by hand, and he would have no way of knowing.
He wouldn’t, Mobei Li finds himself thinking. Nanny wouldn’t hurt me.
No. Not now. He’s too weak right now. Gritting his teeth until his jaw creaks, he holds onto his composure with a clawed grip that would sink into flesh. Then the pain in his arm, like a vortex sucking in all of his attention and strength, flares and becomes worse. He snarls mindlessly, teeth bared, bowing over.
“Y-yeah, that’s it, that’s the pain. That’s expected. Just hold out, and it’ll get better! This miracle pill is supposed to fix anything so long as all of your limbs are attached and, uh, that is technically still attached.”
Make it stop. Make it go away. Fix it.
He is growling continuously, bent over with the pain of it. He claws mindlessly at the floor with his one good arm, digging deep gouges into the floor. He has to make it through this. He will make it through this. This will not bring him low. This will not--
Kneeling by his side, Shang Qinghua strokes his back. A mindless gesture of reassurance, his panic making him reach out and touch when he shouldn’t.
“My king, don’t worry,” Shang Qinghua says, and Mobei Li finds the strength to lift his head enough to see his face through a haze of pain. He is smiling nervously in that way that nonetheless promises miracles. “This servant will definitely fix it!”
The last vestiges of Mobei Li’s self control crumble and vanish. He slips harder and faster than he ever has before in his life.
He bursts into tears. It seizes his entire body, his chest convulsing as his face crumples up. A sob breaks out of his throat against his will, and it hurts, crying hurts.
“... ffffuck, okay,” Nanny says after a long moment of silence. “It-- it’s okay. It’s okay! You, you’ll be fine, my king! And it’s t-totally normal to cry when your arm nearly gets ripped off your body, to be clear! Anyone would be upset! This servant doesn’t think any less of you! You’re still a total badass! Please don’t kill me after this is over--”
Mobei Li whimpers, then twists and curls up until his forehead is resting on Nanny’s shoulder. He trembles from the pain. It doesn’t feel like he has an arm, but instead a hot ball of pain dangling from his shoulder. He wants it gone.
“Oh,” Nanny rasps, then swallows. Mobei Li leans more of his weight onto him, and Shang Qinhua makes a small grunt and reaches up his hands to brace himself. Mobei Li leans in more, nuzzling into him, until Nanny is forced to put his hands around his shoulders and that-- that’s good. That’s better. Mobei Li wraps his good arm around Nanny and clutches onto him tightly.
“Okay,” Nanny says. “Okay. Sure. Sure!”
Nanny wraps his arms more firmly around Mobei Li’s shoulders, patting awkwardly at his back.
“We’ve all been there,” Nanny says. “I totally get it, my king! Pain’s a fucking bitch, absolutely! If, if you cry a little during what’s basically surgery without anesthesia, then that doesn’t count. You’re good! You’re fine! Just, just get it out and ignore everything that’s happening. It’s fine. This servant will take care of everything, so don’t even worry about it!”
“It-- hurts,” Mobei Li gets out.
“Of course it does! Of course! You’re good, you’re fine, it’s going to be okay…”
Nanny falls into a rhythm of mindless soothing from there, his voice babbling and comforting. Mobei Li nuzzles into him like he could bury himself inside of his body and hide there from everything bad. His arm keeps hurting. He keeps crying, hard and deep. He can’t stop it.
Eventually, he slowly begins to wind down. The bright and burning pain is beginning to fade. Exhaustion lays itself over his brain like a thick blanket, making him too tired even to weep.
“... m…”
“Shh, shh, it’s alright my king, all is well, it’s all good, let it all out--”
“Mm-- m’tired,” he mumbles, his voice a quiet croak. His face feels sticky and raw.
“Ah? I mean, of course you are! Who wouldn’t be, after all of that? Do you want to sleep?”
“... no,” Mobei Li says after a long moment of deliberation. He doesn’t know what he wants, but not that. He doesn’t want to sleep yet, no matter how tired he is. Pain and fear are still jangling through his body like after tremors.
“Um,” Nanny says. “Do you want… Do you want to just lie down in the bed, then?”
“... Yes.”
Nanny has to help Mobei Li stand. He’s too weak and trembly. Nanny loops Mobei Li’s good arm around his shoulder, propping up all of Mobei Li’s weight for him and walking along with him to the bed.
“Theeere you go,” Nanny says, helping Mobei Li sit down. Then he ducks down and helps take Mobei Li’s boots off. That feels right. That’s what nannies are supposed to do. They’re supposed to dress you and brush your hair and feed you and take care of you.
Mobei Li has never had a nanny that actually did all of those things for him before. He’s so happy that he finally has Nanny.
Nanny helps Mobei Li further up into the bed, pulling pillows to prop him up from the back. Mobei Li lies there limply and lets Nanny take care of everything, staring up at him with dull exhaustion. Nanny looks entirely focused on his task, putting serious effort into making sure that the pillows are just right. Everything Nanny does is good.
“Alright, is-- is my king comfortable? Is that good?”
“Yes,” Mobei Li says. Tentatively, he curls and uncurls the hand on his bad arm. It works. He doesn’t want to look yet, but he thinks maybe if he did… it would look okay. Nanny fixed it.
Of course he did; he always does.
“Good!” There is a pause, and then Nanny asks more tentatively, “may this servant ask who exactly was responsible for this shameful attack?”
Mobei Li remembers. He looks down at his lap as he mumbles, “Da-ge did it.”
“Ah,” Nanny says. “That guy. Despicable! I’m sure that he was only able to harm my king so badly by playing a nasty, cowardly trick--”
“He hurt me,” Mobei Li says. Hurt lances through his chest again. Why do they all hate him so much?
“... That-- that sucks. That’s awful. I’m… I’m sorry, my king?”
For a moment, the tears almost surge back up again; but he has cried too much. They refuse to come, and he’s left exhausted and spent. He realizes that he’s glad that Nanny thinks that his brother was mean. His father would just say that Mobei Li should try harder not to be hurt.
“Come,” Mobei Li demands, reaching out for Nanny.
“Ah? Yes? What does my king need--” Nanny comes close enough for Mobei Li to grab and pull him close, and Nanny makes an aborted, startled noise. Mobei Li only pulls him in as close as he can, holding him tight to his chest.
“Stay,” he says.
“O-okay,” Nanny chokes out after a long moment, and pats vaguely at Mobei Li’s shoulder. “Whatever my king desires!”
Mobei Li relaxes. Nanny pats and strokes at him like he thinks that’s what he’s supposed to do, which slowly makes Mobei Li feel better and better. After a long few minutes of this, he asks, “Nanny?”
Nanny goes still. “What?”
“Am I safe?”
There is a long, long pause.
“Yes.”
Mobei Li finally closes his eyes, the last of the miserable tension seeping out of him. Nanny’s here; he’ll take care of everything. Mobei Li is safe.
He falls asleep just like that, clutching onto his nanny like a stuffed animal.